Everything To Wish For
by Poison's Touch
Summary: The war is over but with the worst possible outcome. HPSS


AN: I wrote this as a belated birthday present to myself because I've finally got my laptop back and I haven't written anything in forever. This fic is not Beta'd.

Archiving:If anyone would like to host this fic just let me know so I can say yes.

Spoilers: up to HBP in a vague way

The day was bright, with not a single cloud in the sky. Harry frowned, he was positive that he had been standing in the midst of a rainstorm that had been wracked with thunder and lightning. He glanced around himself and found that he no longer stood in the middle of a battle field but the sprawling lawns of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

His hair and clothing had changed also. He was clean shaven. It had been so long since he had dared to use magic to shave his facial hair that he had almost forgotten what it had felt like to have a smooth chin. Hair that had once reached past his shoulders now was barely long enough to hang into his eyes.

Soft, Slytherin green robes replaced what he had thought had been leather pants and black tank shirt that had both been so tight they had acted like a second skin. He also wore plain white sneakers instead of steel toed Doc Martins. Large, round glasses rested on his nose with tape holding them together between the two lenses and scratching him in an unpleasant way.

"What the bloody, buggering hell?" he asked himself softly when he pulled up his sleeves only to see his arms devoid of any scars. The deep marks that he had stopped putting there two years ago could not be gone. He remembered touching them with a heavy sigh five minutes before the shit had hit the fan that morning. Not only were the marks that he had inflicted on himself gone but the one that Voldemort had done was gone also.

A month ago he knew he had been kidnapped by a group of Death Eaters; as unimaginative as that trick had since it was going on the twelfth time Harry had gone through it. They had kept him in a magically padded cell for an indiscernible amount of time before he had been brought before the Dark Lord. At his feet had been Wormtail cradling a silvery hand and on either side had been a single Death Eater.

At the foot of his dais had been a huge fire. The last thing he had remembered before everything went dark had been Voldemort speaking. He had held up a red hot piece of metal as Harry's left arm had been revealed and forced to stay still by whichever Death Eaters had been holding him.

_"And now to mark you asss mine!"_

When he had woken up he had been ensconced in the relative safety of the hospital barracks in the middle of the Forbidden Forrest. His left arm had been strapped down just above his elbow and around his wrist. Above the thick, white lines of his own work had been the horribly red and puckered Dark Mark.

Now the pale flesh of his arms was smooth and unmarred. All save for the legendary _I must not tell lies _written into the flesh on the back of his right hand. But even that was faded and hard to make out. The last time he had looked, the words had seemed so much clearer than they were now.

He took a deep breath and dry washed his face.

"Hey, Harry!" a voice called from the distance. A moment later and Harry could make out the faces of Ron, Hermione, and Neville.

The breath he had just taken was knocked out of him. A memory flashed.

_"Dammit, Harry, if I don't go there is no way that you'll have any chance at winning this war!" Ron glared at him. After a moment his features softened as he looked over Harry's shoulder. Hermione was sitting with Draco in the most comfortable cots the hospital barracks held, newly born Michael and Kimny held in each arm. "Just promise me that you won't let this get to them. Promise me you'll make them live through this." _

Harry had promised and Ron had left. A week later, news of Ron's death had found its way back to the camp along with the fact that he had taken down ten Death Eaters with him during the raid. A week after that Harry had ordered the near unrecognizable Hermione and Draco Weasley to take their new family to Canada where it would be safer, at least for a couple months.

But now Harry was faced with three people he had been prepared never to see again. Two of which he knew was because they were supposed to be dead.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Neville asked. His soft voice made Harry's heart ache in a way that made him realize the other boy's death at hit him a lot harder than he had been able to know while trying to survive the war.

Ron frowned. "You okay, mate? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione stated, "Harry sees ghosts every day in Hogwarts' and it's never bothered him before."

Harry shook his head slowly. Finally he asked, "What… Bloody fuck! What the hell happened?"

The three looked taken aback by Harry's language and exchanged uncomfortable looks. That was when Harry realized something monumental. They looked young! Hermione's brow was free of the deep frown lines that Harry remembered. She wasn't wearing those thin, wire glasses that made her so much more mature either. Her hair was a lot frizzier too. Ron was just as tall as he remember, but he looked wiry and unfamiliar with his own body instead of broad, muscular, and entirely too aware of the power he had with his size.

Harry ran a hand through his own, too short, hair and let himself fall to the ground. He buried his face into his hand and mumbled, "What the hell did I miss?"

Hermione squatted down next to him, having not heard what he said she asked, "Harry… if you're not ready for the bonding ceremony, all you have to do is say so. I'm sure that everyone would understand what with you only being seventeen and all."

"Seventeen!" Harry exclaimed, head shooting up to look at Hermione; trying to decide if she was telling the truth or not. For some reason, though, his Legilimency seemed to have failed him. Then again, it was most likely because he was no longer the skilled twenty-seven-year-old that he remembered being that morning.

With a groan, Harry laid back on the ground so that his entire body was stretched out in a sprawling manner. It had been after his graduation from Hogwarts' that he had started cutting himself. Though it had been nearly three years before he stopped healing himself after each cut, he still knew that he had been on a self destructive path that had landed him in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for nearly six months.

He still thought that those six months at St. Mungo's had been worse than the two hours that he had spent in Azkaband. And he still couldn't forgive Lupin for putting him in that place after he had walked in on Harry cleaning up after his latest cut when he had been nineteen. He hadn't spoken to the werewolf since the day he had been committed.

Hermione was looking at him oddly but Harry couldn't bring himself to care even if he was happy to see her young and relatively care free. He heard Ron move to sit on the ground next to Hermione and turned to watch his red headed friend.

"I think the whole defeating You-Know-Who has finally died down," Ron stated firmly. He grinned as he said, "Harry's finally starting to get it that he's going at things a little too fast."

Harry sat so quickly that he made Hermione gasp. "What. Did. You. Say?" he demanded in a soft and deadly voice.

Ron frowned once again, this time at the venom in Harry's voice. "You've been rushing a lot lately. First with my making dad Minister; then setting up a teaching job here, and now with diving into getting married. You've been acing like if you don't do everything _now_ you won't be able to do it later: Like You-Know-Who will come back from the grave… _again_."

Harry jumped to his feet and started walking towards the school, ignoring the calls of his friends. He knew exactly what had happened here. Somehow he was in a place where he had managed to kill Voldemort.

During Spring Break of his seventh year, Harry had been kidnapped by Voldemort. He had been given the perfect chance to kill the creature that had once been Tom Riddle when the two of them had been alone in his Manor with Voldemort's back to him. All he had had to do was use every bit of power that he had had in his body at the time.

In the end he had been too scared to try. His plan had been made up on the spot and he had no way of knowing whether or not his actions would kill the both of them or just make Voldemort stronger. He had taken the cowards' way out and given up his chance. After that year, the war had finally taken root.

With that realization came the memory of earlier that day. He had faced off with Voldemort and done what he had been too scared to do ten years before. In stead of just killing that creature, everyone around them had been killed as well. The power that Harry had used had been too much for the one body it had been forced into and had burst out and killed everything it had touched; everything and one but him. He had been left alone in the field surrounded by the bodies of friends, family, and foes.

Halfway back to the castle he was met by Severus Snape. Harry's breath caught at the sight of the man. He looked strong and powerful and, amazingly, there was a smile playing on his lips. He no longer looked like the greasy git that had betrayed the Order during his sixth year.

There was a rushing sound as he remembered what had happened next on that battle field. The heavens had broken open and rain had poured so heavily that it had kept Harry from standing. The wind had been strong enough that Harry had had to fight to even stay on his knees. Lightning had flashed bright enough to blind him and thunder had roared deafeningly loud.

He had screamed until he was hoarse and then he had screamed some more. No one could have heard him then. He had been so utterly alone that even through the raging storm he had been able to hear the ringing sound of silence that only someone with no one could hear.

_"Dammit, why! Why the hell… why the _fuck _did it have to be me! I just – I just wish that I could have done it differently,"_ he had whispered, finally broken.

The thunder that boomed had nearly hidden the clearly stated, "_Done_!" from behind him. He had only caught a flash of red hair before everything had slid away.

The smile disappeared from Severus's lips. "Harry?" he asked softly.

And now Harry knew. He knew that this was the man that he was to marry this very afternoon. He knew that in two months time he would be setting Hermione and Ron up with Draco. He knew that Dumbledore was retiring this year. He knew what he needed to know for this place. But he also remembered.

He remembered that he had left behind a life that no person truly deserved; a life that he would not regret leaving behind. And as the storm raged in his mind, Harrison James Potter died and Harry Potter Snape lived on.

FIN


End file.
